


Bread and Roses

by ollie_33



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Pride (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 23:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12518780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollie_33/pseuds/ollie_33
Summary: 1984, the world striking miner Phil Lester's is shaken when a new support group, Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners. From the start, Phil Lester doesn't want them or their leader Dan Howell in their village. Yet, as time passes, Phil's world keeps changing and with it his own mind. Based on the 2014 movie Pride.





	Bread and Roses

1.

The welfare hall was like home. It was where their village came together. More than Phil’s house itself; more than his sister Bryn’s house or his mother’s; it was his home. He could look around the hall and find everyone he knew there. His niece was asleep under the table near his feet, the blanket that she slept beneath pressing up against the ankle of his boot. Everyone and everything that had made him who he was was shared with this hall. Everyone he had ever loved. Especially these days, it was almost a need to be here with everyone. With strike creeping through its fourth month the members of the tiny mining village relied on each other more and more. It was disheartening too that now they all relied so heavily on outside support, the union and support groups bringing in the cash and supplies to keep them on the pickets without starving.

Support groups would visit every once in a while, they came and went with a sluggish frequency; it was never a surprise when one showed up on their doorstep. They came to the welfare hall, they talked to everyone and they showed their thanks, then they left again. It was brief and semi-genuine, but always a small event in the town. His sister had said there was a visit tonight, she was on the women’s support group committee, but she hadn’t said who was coming and the poster that should have announced who the support group was had been ripped down from the wall, bits of paper and staples still stuck to the poster board. 

Phil was drawn out of conversation when the band stopped, looking up and seeing Dai come onto the stage. Phil didn’t listen particularly carefully to what Dai was saying, tapping his cigarette ash into the metal ashtray sitting on the scratched and yellowing linoleum table. Well, Phil wasn’t listening until Dai announced the name of the group; Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners. Phil looked up at that, his eyes going to Dai was making his way off stage and a man with brown hair making his way on. He looked young, he would have had to have been around Phil’s age or younger. Phil found himself watching him closely as he walked up onto the stage, taking in his appearance. He had brown hair, a bit of a curl to it done in a wavy undercut hairstyle that was as rare in this village as gold. His shirt was a dusty grey in the shame shade as Phil’s own, his jeans the same cut, but the man coming on stage somehow stood out like a sore thumb in a way that Phil didn’t. Maybe it was his jacket, a deep beige with the collars black, two red stars set into the collar and numerous multi-coloured buttons on the chest. From this distance, Phil couldn’t read what they said. He also saw a glint of gold as he walked up to the mike coming from his right ear. ‘The gay ear’, things that he had learned in his childhood screamed. Phil finally tore his eyes away from the man to look around the hall and was met with his expression matched on the other village member’s faces. The look of “fuck no, get me out of here.” 

Then the man began to speak. 

“Thank you, Dai. Thank you, erm,” -- the man looked back to check the name of the band -- “‘Falling Leaves.’ My names Dan Howell. Actually - Dai Donovan made a speech at our local pub and - he’s a pretty tough act to follow. So - maybe now is the moment for my musical tribute to Judy Garland.” The man cracked a smile on his face but no one else’s. Silence. Silence throughout the entire hall. Phil found himself compelled to drop his eyes away from the man at the mike and down to the table. The poor guy was making a fool of himself, digging himself a bigger hole, you could see it in the eyes of the miners if you scanned the hall, and you could see in the eyes of the man onstage that he knew it too. Yet he continued in what seemed like a dire attempt to connect with the crowd “Listen, we raised this money because we want to help you. That’s it. And we’ll keep on trying to help you for as long as you want us to. Because we’ve been through some of the same things you’ve been through,” Phil could feel the entire hall holding its breath, shaking its head at every statement. But then, one final nail in the coffin as the man onstage opened his mouth again “Listen - if one in five people is gay, then one in five miners must be too, right? So that’s at least a fifth of you who’s pleased to see us?” Silence, small grumblings, people began to get out of their seats. “Thank you. Thank you for inviting us here.”

In the seconds after, as the man began to leave the stage, the hall filled with people beginning to rise to leave, people pulling their children behind them and shaking their heads as they found their ways to the door. Phil caught a look from one of his friends across the hall, nodding to him and picking up his jacket as he himself began to go. But then, his sister’s arm caught his from across the table, giving him such a glare that he sat back down, furrowing his eyebrows and continuing to stare at the table. 

The group left all together soon after that with Dai by their sides and the welfare seemed to go back to normal, sans the people who had left directly after the speech. Phil had another beer and didn’t let himself think about that man or their group again. Then, he finished his drink, wrapped himself up in his jacket, and went back home.   
Phil lived directly above his sister and her husband, Afan, originally a single house later split into two separate homes. There was a staircase that led up to his flat that was separate from his sisters, but he and his sister’s lives were well intertwined and their houses showed that. His nieces and nephew’s toys were all over his living room, their snacks in his cupboard. Phil’s clothes would end up in his sister’s laundry, he would pop down in the middle of the night for toothpaste. His mom and dad lived down the street in the tiny house that they had always lived in, the house that Phil and his sister had grown up in. 

Phil climbed the stairs up to his place, not wanting to go through his sister’s since she hadn’t left until after him. Since she was still out of the house and the door to her place would still be locked and then he would just have to unlock two doors, so it was easier to just go straight up to his. He fumbled with his keys a bit and then pushed the door open and made his way into the house. He put his keys in his dish by his door then started through the dark rooms, not bothering to flip on the lights. He knew his way around without them.

Now that he was home alone, Phil felt odd. His brain was buzzing with nervousness, and he wasn’t quite sure why. It was like something had changed, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t like that those people were here, that was surely part of it. It felt invasive. Phil had never thought of himself as homophobic, but lesbians and gays had never been a part of his life. He had never met a gay person before. Well, as far as he knew. The thing was, he didn’t understand why they were here. Why were they trying to help with the strike? Really, it was none of their business. They were from London, they didn’t understand it out here. And the more Phil thought about it, the more he realized that their group wasn’t going to help them, really. What would people say about the miners if they got wind of this?? The last thing their strike needed right now was bad press like this, people knowing that they were being supported by perverts. He didn’t want them here, and it just made him uncomfortable. They weren’t going to help them. Surely their group, the lesbians, and gays, they knew that. So then why had they come here?

Phil tried to put his mind to rest, busying himself with domestic tasks. He made himself some toast and ate it dry, then went to take a shower. He stripped, tossing his grey shirt onto his radiator, dislodging a chunk of the piss-pale-yellow paint that was flaking off the metal. That grey colour of the shirt, it had looked much better on the other man than it did with Phil’s complexion. But Phil tried to keep him from his mind when he was in the shower, when he was going to bed, and when he finally fell asleep Phil bad managed to think of something else entirely. 

2\. 

Dan, Phil was disturbed to discover, was staying with his sister. When he came down the next morning, there was Dan, nursing a cup of coffee. His hair was out of place and he was fidgeting with his thumbs like he needed a cigarette. 

Apparently, Dai didn’t have enough beds in his place to keep LGSM, not even enough floor room either.   
“It’s just embarrassing,” his sister stated over breakfast, Dan, Wryn, Afan, her husband, and their four kids all seated around their dining table. “That we would even consider putting you all in one room like that,” she said, looking earnestly across the table at Dan. “I said to Dai, I said that I wasn’t having it.” She said. “I said I would take half of you if I had to. If no one else would step up to their duties on the welcoming committee, I would have to. And then a couple more did, so it’s better now. It’s better now that you’re staying with us,” she concluded. 

Dan said a few words of his thanks, Afan and Phil said nothing. The two left for the pickets after breakfast, not coming back until late. 

Then, Phil went back home for a bit, taking the time to change his clothes and comb his hair. He made his way down the steps from his house and down the street. Something on the walk caught his eye. Phil knelt to the ground, at first not recognizing the shiny object laying there, thinking it was a coin, a bit of foil. Something mundane; an object of the village. Picking it up, and as he pulled it closer to his face he realized that it was most definitely not a coin. It was a pin, lain face down on the ground. Phil turned it over, running his finger over the words before he registered what it read; "that's mister faggot to you". Suddenly, Phil had the overwhelming urge to drop the pin. Drop it quickly and run rather than be seen with a thing like this in his pocket. Phil didn’t, but he still held the pin like it was hot, just the tips of his fingers as he pocketed it. He knew whose it was, he had seen it on his jacket earlier. It was Dan’s pin. He had a few of them on his jacket, all with bold statements like that displaying so prominently who he was. It was so bold, Phil was stuck between admiration and irritation

Phil was originally going down to the bar, but he didn’t think he could do so now with a thing like this in his pocket. He couldn’t risk it falling out or being seen with it. He knew he could just explain where he had found it, but he really was almost less keen on that idea. Then he would have to go and explain why he picked it up and why he still had it. So, Phil turned around and started back down the street. He unlocked the door to his sister’s, pulling the door open and walking in. He felt a bit like a criminal, looking around to make sure nobody else was inside and watching him before he walked into the room where Dan was staying. Phil walked to the bed, slowly smoothed out the comforter, and set down the pin. He leaned back to standing, pausing as the picture in a frame on the night table caught his eye. It wasn’t one that had been in his sister’s house before, something Dan must have brought with him. Phil picked it up to get a closer look at the photograph, holding it up to the small amount of light coming through the window from the streetlamp outside. The picture was of the group that had come, LGSM. They were all grinning widely and brandishing buckets out in front of them.   
The group looked so happy all there together. He could see Dan in the back, standing tall. His hair was slightly longer in this picture then it was now, his curls into coils. He could see the button that he had just set on the bed outlined in the photograph against the black of Dan’s jacket. Dan held up one fist, his eyes bright even in the slightly hazy photograph. It was hard to imagine any way that these people could be anything more than completely harmless from the way they looked here. Phil put back the frame onto the wood, then moving on to look at the slightly smaller photo next to it, picking that one up in turn. In the picture was Dan and another two other men. It was in someone's apartment, the kitchen with Dan reaching up to get something out of a cabinet. Both others had their eyes turned to look at Dan, both laughing while Dan grinned into the wooden door of the cabinet like he had just made a joke that he was too proud to find funny himself. From what Phil could see in the room, it was a simple apartment. The kitchen counters were cluttered, a kettle and a few jars and boxes, everyday things. Phil noted that whoever’s kitchen this was bought the same brand of cereal as he did. A communist flag hung prominently on the side wall next to where one of the men was standing. That man, the one standing there, Phil had seen before. A member of the group, always at Dan’s side. The other one Phil didn’t recognize. Either he hadn’t come with them or Phil had just been inattentive. And yet, Phil took a second to compare the two photos and noted that the mystery man in the second photo was not a member of the grinning group in the first.

Suddenly, Phil heard a noise from somewhere inside the house, quickly putting the picture down. He looked around the room, but then he quickly ducked, going back through the halls and out onto the street. Getting caught in his sister’s house wouldn’t be embarrassing, it was his sister after all, but his reason for being there would be too hard for Phil to explain without it seeming like...well Phil didn’t really know what it would seem like. His actions seeming like anything really wasn’t something Phil wanted. He didn’t want his sister to try to talk to him about Dan. He didn’t want people to talk to him about LGSM or the gays. He didn’t want to think about them. So, he ducked out of the house and back onto the street, heading towards the bar again. Phil drank a bit more than usual and took a bit longer to fall asleep last night. 

The next day, Dan’s pin was back on his jacket, glinting there as Phil passed him by. Phil felt his cheeks flush when he saw it, looking down at the ground. Phil wondered if Dan would ever know who returned it to him. 

 

3.

Phil had been staring at the ground of the welfare hall for close to twenty minutes. He was listening to what people were saying, could hear their voices all around him. But somehow looking at the ground and not at them took him out of the situation, made him feel like he wasn't really here. Like the tv was on in another room but he wasn't really watching it. It was comforting. But, then, a sudden voice stuck out of the buzz, calling his name

"Oi, Lester, stop being a prick and talk to our guests." It was his sister’s friend, Imogen. They had grown up together, and now she called to him from two seats down, situated between the man from Dan’s photograph and his sister. "Daniel just asked you a question, twice, so why don't you bloody well answer it."  
Phil curled his hand into a fist, grabbing tightly at the fabric of his jeans under the table as he forced himself to look up at the group again. He hadn't registered that the question had been for him, he tried to think back to what had been

"I asked if you wanted a cigarette, " Daniel said, holding it out poised between two fingers. 

"No," Phil said, a little too quickly. 

"Lester don't be so rude!" It was his sister this time. Phil thought bitterly that this was like when they were younger, to have them teaming up on him like this. Had he been rude? Maybe he had. But he had just said he didn’t want it, what was rude about that?

"No, it's alright," Dan said, a placid expression still on his face as he turned the cigarette in his fingers, tucking it into his palm and then retrieving a pack from his black jacket. Dan took a second as if he was calculating something in his mind and then slowly said: "If you have something to say, though, you should just say it." 

Phil gritted his teeth. He didn't know what about the other's words were getting to him, but they made him angry. Completely non-confrontational language, but Phil could feel his blood boil a little bit. How could Dan be so calm?

“Okay, fine,” Phil said, raising his eyebrows and resting his elbows on the table, leaning in slightly so he could look directly at Dan. 

Dan nodded at Phil, his face impartial but his eyes like a shark’s.

“Phil,” his sister interjected, but Phil barely glanced at her. 

“I know you all think that you’re helping, but you're not. The most important thing is that people see us as legitimate. Do you honestly think you're helping us? You need to actually think about the people you're helping before you just..." Phil waved one hand vaguely, not sure himself what they had “just” done.

"We're just trying to help you," Dan said earnestly, calm as he folded his hands on the table. 

"But you're not! You're giving us a bad name!"

"What about us is giving you a bad name?" Dan said, his eyebrow cocked. Still so non-confrontational but he could see the glitter of challenge in his eyes daring him to keep talking. Daring him to say what he was really thinking, what so many other people here were thinking.

"Because…..because,” Phil said, struggling to come up with a sentence. He had taken the bait, he knew Dan was baiting him to say exactly what the expected him to say. ‘Because you’re bloody gays and lesbians’ was the short answer Phil wanted to give, but he knew he would have to say more than that. “Because we’re fucking miners, okay? It’s not like London here, mate. It’s the real world. Miners and gays don’t go together, end of story, alright. If people think we’re all gays too then you know the kind of hell we’re going to catch? From everyone??”

"Are you really so insecure that you think that people will think that your whole village is gays and lesbians because you accepted money from us?" 

"Accepting money is one thing. But now you're here, in our hall, drinking our beer, talking-"

"You invited us," Dan interrupted him.

"The committee did. Not me. Not fucking me,” Phil said, pushing his pint across the table away from him. “You want to help? Leave.” Phil finished. “I'll be at home Gwyn,” Phil stood up and pulled on his jacket. He heard something fall out of his pocket and clatter onto the ground but he didn't stop to look down or look back at the group behind him as he left the welfare hall.

4.  
Every time that Phil would see Dan, his heart would seize up in his chest. Phil just wasn’t comfortable with those people around, end of story. He didn’t want to have to hear them laughing, to see them mixed in with his community. Unsettled, he liked the world that he had lived in before their support group had shown up a few days ago. It had been comfortable. It was like when you were almost asleep in bed and then someone knocked on the door. You just had to resent the person who made you get up. No matter what they got you up for. 

It didn’t help at all that Dan was living with his sister. He knew, in hours, that Dan and the rest of the gays and lesbians would be gone in the same red van they came in, but that didn’t help much when he would stumble across Dan in his home or anywhere. It was all jarring, just too jarring. 

There were quite a few of them, but Phil was starting to be able to tell the different lesbians and gays apart now. He knew who Dan was, of course. But there was also Mike, who was always by Dan’s side. There were two men whose names both started with Rs, Reggie and Ray or something, and they were together. Now there were a few women, one named Steph with bright orange hair and two other women that Phil had seen kiss in the welfare hall the day before. And then two or three more, one sleek and feminine guy and then one guy a little younger and one a little older. But none of them really stood out to Phil like Dan did. It made sense, really. Dan was always in his place, always around. It seemed like no matter if Phil’s eyes were open or closed, the only thing that he could see was Dan’s face, and Phil didn’t like it. But soon they would leave, and things could go back to normal.

And then LGSM did leave, Phil had watched their van leaving the village slowly, and then things did go back to normal, for a while. Yet unfortunately, what was considered normal in the village was on the decline. It was coming on Christmas now, colder than ever, but the village was peppered with houses with their heat cut off. And worse, the village van had broken down. Their van was the way into the pickets, their way to get food, a lifeline. But it had been severed, and the empty machine was covered in a few inches of bitter snow. 

Dan had called his sister on Christmas eve, sent a card even. It had made his sister smile wider than he had seen her smile in a while. Phil’s animosity had started to fade. Not completely, not even close, but when he heard that LGSM was coming back, Phil didn’t feel the need to hurl himself out of his window and into the snow to freeze to death. And certainly, that had to be an improvement. 

When Dan came back to his sister’s, though, it was almost as jarring as the first time. Seeing Dan around was strange, not something he was particularly keen on.   
But slowly, Phil forced himself to be in the same room as Dan on purpose. He would hang around the living room, even if Dan was there. He wouldn’t skip dinner to avoid him and would no longer turn away to go somewhere else whenever he saw the brown-haired man.  
One morning, his niece was playing on the floor, her knees pressed into the carpet as she knelt in front of the coffee table. She had pieces of paper out in front of her and a box of crayons. Dan sat by her side. 

Phil sat down on the couch a few feet away, Dan looked up but then went back to colouring.

There was a long pause, Phil watching the two draw. His niece, Bridget, gripped a blue crayon in her small hand while Dan held a red one in his larger one. 

“You know, the kids love Jeff,” Dan said. 

“Which one is Jeff?” Phil asked. 

“He…he’s blonde,” Dan said, and Phil gave a small nod of acknowledgment. 

“Well…” Phil started, but then didn’t know what to say so he just shut up. 

“Are you going to draw with us too Uncle Phil?” 

So, Phil did. He sat there and he drew with them. And when Dan looked up at Phil, when their eyes met, Phil felt alright. 

That was the start of it all, really. LGSM stayed for a few days after that. Every day, Dan and Phil had a conversation just a little bit longer. And suddenly, the two of them were joking with each other, talking to each other. 

Phil didn’t really understand how it had all happened so quickly. But, once he let one wall down, they seemed to al come crashing one right after another. His sister had seen it too, commented on it one night when she and Phil were alone. 

When she asked why he had changed his mind, Phil didn’t really know. In fact, he didn’t know at all. But, it was a lot less energy to just give in and like someone like Dan then it was to dislike them. 

But then, it all came to a fever pitch for Phil one night. He had had some laundry to deliver to Dan, but now somehow he was perched on the edge of Dan’s bed, watching the back of the other man as he stood across the room and put on a record. The first few notes started to play and when Dan turned around he had a small smile toying on his face. 

“Philip Michael Lester, I am going to teach you how to dance,” Dan said, stepping towards Phil and holding out his hand. Phil hesitated, shaking his head profusely. Dan grinned, not giving up. So, Phil took his hand, letting Dan pull him up from the mattress. Dan met him in the middle, putting one hand on his waist. Their faces were close, close enough that he could see small freckles on Dan’s nose that he had never noticed before. Phil realized that they weren’t moving at all for a moment, Dan had stilled the same way Phil had and his eyes were focused intently on his face. Phil cleared his throat and he felt Dan jump a bit under him, bringing them boy back to the moment. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to teach me?” Phil asked, raising his eyebrows gently. He knew that Dan was a good dancer, he wondered if Dan underestimated how terrible Phil was. 

“By the time I get done with you, you’re going to be a total woman magnet,” Dan said, a grin on his face as he made Phil start to sway in time to the music. 

“A woman magnet?”

“Well...whatever sort of magnet you want to be,” Dan said. It was a small wording like that that would have made Phil tense up a while ago. He would have gotten defensive, been angry that anyone would even suggest that he would like something besides women. But now, Phil felt alright with it. Dan wasn’t telling him that he needed to be a man magnet, he wasn’t forcing him to be anything. He was just suggesting that whatever he wanted, whatever, it was fine. Phil appreciated it, it was far more comfortable for him to sit with that kind of leeway either way. 

“Now you’re not doing so bad,” Dan said, and Phil looked up into his eyes again, raising his eyebrows sceptically. 

“We’re not really doing anything though, are we?” Phil asked. They were still just standing in the same place, doing a gentle two step to the music. 

“Phil, I’m going to give you an important part of your dance education. No matter how good your moves are, no matter what, you will never be a good dancer unless you have some sort of rhythm. And you...well I’ve seen worse,” Dan said. 

 

“Seen worse, okay,” he said. “There are people who are worse...back in London. You know, the places where you go?” Phil asked, the words ‘gay nightclub’ seeming to catch on his lips, Phil doing what he could to avoid them. 

“Not all gay men know how to dance, Phil. It’s just hard to seduce another gay man if you can’t,” he said, cracking a grin. 

“Is that why you all can dance?” Phil asked, raising his eyebrows. He had left that night, but he had heard the story; men on the dance floor, not just the women up there by themselves, disco, apparently they had been amazing. He gave Dan a smile after he asked the question, even though it looked meeker than he intended it to look. In another world, it might pass for flirting. Maybe on some level, it was. Phil didn’t really know. Phil didn’t know anything about gay people. LGSM was a small trade boat of information that floated into their village and then floated back out again. While the village had seen some transformation over the past few months, it was still the same place it was before with the same people. None of them were like Dan or the rest of LGSM.

Despite all Phil’s thoughts, Dan just winked and put his hand on Phil’s waist, gently pushing it back and forth to the rhythm of the music so that he could get used to it. Dan took Phil’s hand into his own and extended it out, pushing them together so they folded, pressed hip to hip as they danced.

5.

It was night. They sat in the welfare hall, all of them, listening to Cliff speak. A calm had come over the group, a spell cast on them by Cliff’s voice. Phil had known Cliff since he was a boy, Cliff an old miner himself. Quiet, white-haired, but Phil had seen him with rage in his eyes like no other when Cliff was faced with a police officer on the pickets.

“It’s called the Great Atlantic Fault,” Cliff explained, everyone watching from over their drinks, “and it starts here. In Spain,” he continued. “And it goes under the Bay of Biscay. Then it comes up in South Wales. Then it goes under the Atlantic for miles and miles and miles. Then it comes up again in Pennsylvania,”

Hefina nodded, “My Dad used to talk about it.”

Phil nodded tracing a finger around the bottom of his drink “And mine,” he said. 

“The Dark Artery,” Gethin, the newcomer LGSM member chimed in.

Cliff nodded gently at Gethin “That’s it,” he said, turning “You could take a miner from Wales or Spain or America and show them that seam and they would recognize it. There’s no other coal like it. It’s perfect. Pure,” Cliff took a beat and took a drink of his beer, then cleared his throat and continued “I lost my younger brother to that pit. Thirty-six years old. But without it, this town is nothing. Finished. That’s what I’d say if I ever came face to face with Margaret fucking Thatcher. That’s what I’d tell her. The pit and the people are one and the same.” There was a pause before Cliff looked up at the rest of the group, letting out a small laugh and suddenly the spell about all of them cracked, everyone seeming to let out the collective breath they had been holding, starting to stir again as Cliff turned to Gethin, raising his glass and murmuring “Welcome home, son,” he said. 

Phil leaned back in his chair gently again, taking a drink again. Over his glass he made eye contact with Dan across the table, he could see something stirring behind his eyes. Phil raised his eyebrows gently and Dan gave him a small smile, breaking their eye contact and looking around the hall. Suddenly Dan got out his seat, Phil the first to notice but as soon as he started standing on his chair, eyes started to turn towards him. When he started to speak, he had the full attention of the room. “Listen to me, everyone. I just want to say something - “

“Get your feet off those seats,” Hefina muttered firmly at Dan, Dan glancing back at her before starting up onto the table. 

“We’ve let you down,” Dan said. The resounding noise through the hall was mumbles and reproving cries, people shaking their heads and turning their kind eyes up towards Dan. “We have. We haven’t collected enough. We haven’t raised enough awareness - we know that. It’s not enough to always be defending, sometimes you have to attack - to push forward,” Dan’s eyes were full of flame as he spoke. “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” he concluded. “When we get back to London - and you have my word on this - we are going to -” Dan glanced at Phil. Phil wasn’t quite sure why him, but it made something rise in his chest. “We’re going to do something so spectacular,” there were a few good-hearted laughs from the crowd, but Dan pushed on “it’ll be so incredible, so effective, that the National Coal Board - I promise you this - will come crawling on their hands and knees,” there were more laughs now, but not at all meant to dishearten, “in full drag,” Dan continued “to beg you for forgiveness!” There was din of laughing and clapping from the hall and Dan smiled down at them, his eyes set and passionate as he raised his red-sleeved fist, “Victory!” he shouted, pumping his fist upward in a fluid motion, “Victory to the miners!”

There was cheering from the crowd, Phil joined in raising his fist and laughing as the moment swept him away. Dan stood so tall on the table, looking like a God under the fluorescent lights. And the way he turned his head to look towards Phil as if to signal to him that they were both there, in the moment, God, Phil didn’t know what to make of it. Dan stood there, Phil couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

The cheering of the crowd died down, but another voice came out of it. A woman’s voice, singing. It was a song Phil knew well, a song from the depths of his childhood. One of the anthems that constantly beat at the core of his being. Phil looked around the room for the origin of the singing, his eyes landing on a woman standing. She lived close to him, he had known her for years. Her voice was high, melodic, with a slight waver as all eyes turned to her. 

As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,   
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts grey,   
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,   
For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!" 

Other women began to join in, standing up as well and looking around at each other, an apprehensive defiance on their faces as they all lay eyes on each other. Phil shifted his eyes up to Dan, who was still standing in the middle of the table. Dan looked dumbfounded, amazed, taking in what was in front of him.

As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,   
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.

Dan finally knelt, quietly getting off the table and sitting back down. Now Dan was right next to Phil. 

Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;   
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses! 

Dan and Phil shared a small look as more of the villagers joined in, Phil among them singing quietly. The members of LGSM, those who didn’t know these words by heart, were transfixed. It was a spell more powerful than Cliffs, so incredibly powerful that everywhere he looked people were singing, leaning on each other and wrapping their arms around each other. He felt a hand on his forearm and he looked over at Dan, their eyes meeting. Phil faltered in his singing for a second as their eyes met, but then Dan gently squeezed his arm and looked away, Phil following suit and joining back into the song. 

As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead   
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread. 

Dan’s hand was warm and solid on his arm, gentle and real. Phil found himself teary-eyed. 

Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.  
Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!

He turned back to Dan as the song ended and it felt like the fever pitch of something, Phil just couldn’t tell what. He thought that something must be about to happen, the world about to explode or aliens to rain down from the sky. The moment couldn’t be as mundane as the two men sitting next to each other in the welfare hall, could it? Phil felt Dan’s hand start to lower down his arm, and Phil knew what was about to happen. Dan’s hand slipped into his, their palms soft and heavy against each other’s as their fingers intertwined.

Bang, a door flew open nearby and two men came in, Johnny and Lee looking drunk and angry. They were mining boys too, from the start they had felt how Phil used to feel, and they were glaring into the hall like they meant trouble. The moment broke and Phil ripped his hand away from Dan’s, getting up from the table and following quickly after Dai, leading the two men back out into the hall. 

“What is it?” Phil said to them in what he hoped was a non-confrontational voice, but an edge of ice leaked into his voice as he looked out upon the two men, standing in front of the door and blocking the way back into the hall. 

“We’ve come to take back our welfare,” Lee spat.

Phil kept his kind facade, but it was starting to crack as he said, “what are you talking about?”

“From all your bloody queers,” Lee confirmed, and Phil felt his blood start to boil. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Dai asked, Martin standing behind him as the three men stood in front of Lee and Johnny.

Johnny spoke up now “There's normal people who want to drink in here as well, you know?”

Dai looked between them in indignant disbelief “You listen to me. Those people in there are our guests -”

“Yeah. Well, they want to watch themselves,” Johnny cried out. Phil didn’t even know how it happened, but suddenly he was grabbing Johnny by the throat, his blood boiling inside of him. 

Dai said firmly “Leave it, Phil, for God’s sake.”

Phil let go of Johnny but then turned to grab Lee, the other man fighting against him for a second before Phil hurled him around and pushed him roughly out the door, Lee falling into the snow outside the door. Phil stood above him, glaring at the two as he proclaimed, loudly and seriously. “You so much as lay one finger on anyone inside that hall. And so help me God, I’ll break your bloody arms and legs for you,” he shouted. Phil felt himself being pulled back into the hall by Dai and Martin, the door swinging shut but not before he heard Lee’s angry cry of “bent bastards.”

They went back into the hall together, Phil taking his seat back beside Dan but with a far more set expression, Phil not turning his eyes back towards Dan as he tried to calm himself down, rubbing one fist in the palm of the other. 

Dan seemed to be trying to get Phil’s eyes to meet his own, turned towards Phil, though Phil couldn’t tell the expression on his face with his eyes trained on the table in front of him. Phil felt Dan’s hand on his shoulder and Phil finally looked over at the man next to him, catching his eyes for a moment and waving his hand dismissively. It was nothing, really, but Phil had been lit on fire for a moment. Phil, always cautious and passive, had been fully prepared to throw himself into a fight if anyone dared to threaten these people. And that was a new feeling. A new feeling entirely. 

Phil nor Martin nor Dai spoke about it for the rest of the night, everyone going over to Dai’s for a party, practically half the village crammed into the house. It was almost as cold inside as it was outside with the heating shut off the way it was, but Phil felt significantly warmer. He drank a beer and sat on the sofa next to Steph, watching the people around them. His head was lolled back against the couch, a serene smile painted across his face as he drank his beer and watched everyone move around him. He pulled his legs up to him, his pose slightly catlike as he lounged there. He could see Dan in the kitchen with a small group listening to Cliff. He hadn’t talked to Dan, not a word all night. But there was a certain understanding between them in the way that they looked at each other. Some invisible wall, once so thick, had been officially knocked down. It terrified Phil to no end to think about that, but he also couldn’t help to think how significantly better his life had become since LGSM showed up on their doorstep. 

6.  
“Dai told me what you did,” were Dan’s first words when Phil opened the door. Dan was standing on Phil’s doorstep, looking at Phil earnestly. 

“What?” Phil asked, feigning like he wasn’t quite sure what Dan was talking about and raising his eyebrows. He stood back to let Dan in. 

“I heard you beat up some guys in defense of us,” Dan said, a small grin on his face as he stepped into Phil’s home. 

Phil shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Well I think it’s brave,” Dan said. 

A few minutes later, Dan and Phil knelt on Phil’s bed, Phil’s back to the wall and Dan’s back to the door. They were both perched a bit uncomfortably, but they were facing each other and leaning in like something was about to happen as they talked, some exciting event that would warrant leaning in like this to talk. 

“I grew up in Northern Ireland, I know all about what happens when people don’t talk to each other. That’s why I’ve never understood - What’s the point of supporting gay rights but nobody else’s rights. You know? Or - workers’ rights but not Women’s rights - it’s - I don’t know - illogical,” Dan said.

Phil nodded quietly, taking a second before he spoke back to Dan, looking up into his eyes. 

“There’s a lodge banner down in the welfare. We bring it out for special occasions. It’s a hundred years old. I’ll show it to you one day. It’s a symbol like this -” Phil extended his hand out to Dan and Dan took it, their hands clasping together for a moment before they dropped. “Two hands. That’s what the labour movement means. Should mean. You support me and I support you. Whoever you are. Wherever you come from. Shoulder to shoulder. Hand to hand.” Phil could see something in Dan’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before as he spoke, and as they both finished talking. Then, Dan slowly leaned in towards Phil. Phil felt his heart skip a beat, but not from panic. From something completely separate. Phil leaned forward as well, their lips meeting in the middle. It was nice, soft and not nearly as clunky as when Phil had kissed a girl from down the street when he was younger.   
Dan pulled away first, Phil let out a small nervous giggle as they looked at each other again.   
“Phil..” Dan said as though he was going to start a sentence, but then he just let out a small laugh as well, reaching out to gently take Phil’s hand, which Phil gladly gave.   
They were both quiet, drinking in the moment. Phil finally broke the silence, and they went back to talking quietly until they both fell asleep.

Dan wasn’t there when Phil woke up, he had gone back down to his sister’s house. They met over the breakfast table, Phil nursing a cup of coffee and Phil’s nieces and nephews puttering around their feet. They didn’t speak to each other too much, letting the others chatter around them as they ate, but they exchanged small glances. Their eyes would snag each other and Phil would smile into his mug. 

They washed the dishes together afterward while Bryn and her Afan wrangled the kids into getting ready for the day. The kitchen was silent after everyone left, the splash of water and the clinking of dishes as Phil washed them and Dan dried them with an only mildly-used dishcloth. Their hands would touch every once in a while, as they passed the silverware between them. 

“Are you leaving tonight?” Phil asked, passing a glass off to Dan.

Dan nodded “As soon as Gethin gets back,” he said. “We’ve got to get back to London.”

Phil was quiet, rinsing off a plate gently. There was a lull in the conversation before- “I’ve got to do something big,” Dan said. 

“Well now you do, yeah,” Phil said, turning towards him with a small grin. After that announcement last night, there seemed to be no way Dan was just going back to shaking a bucket on the sidewalk. 

“I just...It’s morale.” Dan said, holding the plate that Phil had handed him in his hands absently, no longer focused on the task in front of them. He wasn’t looking at Phil even, just staring intently at the wood on the cupboards with his eyebrows knit together in thought. “That’s the thing. It’s just as important as money. Because the minute they start to feel like a lost cause -”

“Yeah,” Phil said, stopping his hands as he was washing to look up at Dan. It would be fruitless, anyway, to keep cleaning the dishes when Dan wasn’t drying them. Besides, Dan looked fascinating like this, contemplative and fiery. 

When Dan was pulled out of his trance, Phil could tell he was still now 100% there, his mind still running as Dan went back to wiping the plates down. 

LGSM left that evening. They all loaded into the van, and as they left down the road Phil couldn’t help but feel a bit gloomy. Phil had almost managed to forget that the two groups were from two different worlds within the same country. And the next time they would be together wasn’t definite but it certainly wouldn’t be tomorrow or the next day. 

7.

Phil was the last one in the car to London, slamming the back hatch shut and piling into the car. He looked out the passenger’s side window as they drove away from the village. This was incredible, he couldn’t believe he was going to London. London. He had never been farther than 50 miles outside of the village. And they would be back with LGSM soon, back with Dan. Phil couldn’t help but feel a little jolt inside him when he remembered that. He couldn’t help but replay that night over and over again in his head.   
Phil was scared. He was really scared. If they showed up in London and something was different with Dan than it was that night, Phil would probably just die on the spot. Phil didn’t want to be nervous. He knew that that wouldn’t help him when he was face to face with Dan again. But really, Phil didn’t know how to convince himself that this wasn’t just a one-time-thing, a moment that Phil knew he would hang onto forever, but might just mean nothing for Dan. He couldn’t see what he could give Dan that would be enough for the other man to hold on in the time that they hadn’t seen each other. Dan had called, countless times Dan had called. They had talked about the situation there in the Dulais Valley and what they were doing in London and about Bryn and the kids and about everything but exactly what Phil wanted the two of them to talk about.

One moment, for a few words that they exchanged at the end of a call on a Sunday night, Phil thought that they might get somewhere again. It had been late, they had been talking for later than usual. And Dan had said that he missed Phil. His voice had been smaller, unlike the confident voice he used so often when he was calling out to the group. Phil had almost felt like it was a different person talking to him on the phone. Phil had said that he missed Dan too. Phil had wished desperately to see his face, and for a moment he had felt distinctly like he was going to cry. Dan said that London felt lonely. Phil had said that it couldn’t possibly feel lonelier than out here. Dan had laughed, saying it was a different type of lonely. Phil wanted to ask Dan what that meant. But then he just didn’t. And there had been silence on the other line for a while, and then Dan had said that they should probably say goodnight. So they did. And they didn’t talk like that again. 

 

Phil had lain in his bed for a long time that night without sleep, his fingers tugging at the old quilt draped across his body. 

But now, Phil and everyone else were headed to London. LGSM was putting on a show, a benefit concert for the miners. Dan had stuck to his word, they were doing something big. They had gotten press done about it, they had gotten Bronski Beat to headline, things had seemed to go so right for them. Phil didn’t know what to expect, it was all so new.   
They were calling the concert Pits and Perverts. But that name came from a more unfortunate thing that had happened while LGSM was gone. Someone, and it must have been someone from their village, leaked the story of LGSM to the press. And the press hadn’t been too kind. They attacked the miners, saying that this was evidence that the miners were almost finished. If their village would accept help from the “bottom of the barrel”, then the strikers must be getting desperate. Most importantly, they framed LGSM as “perverts”. The word made Phil’s heart stop, set his brain on fire with shame and anger. But, LGSM has taken it, reclaimed it for themselves. And this concert, it was Pits and Perverts. A coming together of people. 

There were people in the village, other strikers, who thought that after this article there was no point in taking money from LGSM. That finally, they had really done more harm than good. And now, there was a vote on it. Phil didn’t doubt that they could win. The vote was the day after the concert, midday so they could all make it back to vote.   
Phil knew what his vote would be, of course, he did. For as long as LGSM would help them, they would accept whatever they could give. 

9.  
After they reached London, the day passed in a blur of hanging posters, of doing work to set up, and Phil barely saw Dan at all. 

Then, before the concert, Dan had had to go backstage. He was giving a speech, of course. It was his event, his night. As he spoke, Phil clung tight to every word the radiant man up on the stage said. 

Dan looked so good that night on that stage, dressed a silky black button up. A longer earring glinted from his right ear, a grin on his face as he spoke to the crowd of people. Dan looked like a benevolent God, and Phil for a moment questioned the legitimacy that he was so lucky to have kissed a man like that in his lifetime. 

Later, the music was loud. It was loud and it was hot and sweaty on the floor of the Electric Ballroom. Phil had never felt so deeply at home and so deeply out of place at the same time. All the people around him, the dark blue shirt that Steph had put him in, he felt like a new man. It was like he was taking every down and every upper at the same time, his brain so on fire yet calm as could be. Phil was in the front of the crowd, close to the stage. Dan was next to him, having come down from the stage a while earlier.

Phil glanced over at Dan, and suddenly Dan was looking back at him. It was dark, Phil couldn’t see the colour of Dan’s eyes but the coloured lights kept flashing over his face, red, blue, yellow, until it was like Dan’s face had absolutely no colour but as well was made up of only colour. Hypnotic, Phil couldn’t keep his eyes from Dan’s so much so that he only registered Dan’s movements when Dan’s hand was suddenly around Phil’s, reaching towards each other. Their hands were sweaty, but so was everything else. Dan tugged gently on Phil’s hand to pull him closer, an invitation but not an obligation. Phil, his eyes fixed on Dan and only Dan moved closer. Then Dan was pulling Phil’s hand to his chest, pulling Phil in and Phil was kissing him again. Overstimulation in every sense, his heart beating runaway and the most intense electric pressure in his chest he had ever felt. Phil came away shaking, it was the most exquisite moment of Phil’s entire existence. 

Much like the day, the rest of the night passed in an incomprehensible blur. Dan and Phil kissed some more, the music continued to be loud and everything continued to be sweaty. Then later, suddenly, they were all in a leather bar. Everyone, Gwyn and Sian and Dai and all the members of the welcoming committee. Phil was sitting at the bar with a bright blue drink and Dan was chatting enthusiastically to someone he seemed to know. 

And then, Phil was at Dan’s apartment. He was staying the night there, a turn of events after all the nights that Dan had spent in Phil’s home. 

The moment Phil entered, he recognized everything from the photo he had seen that one night on Dan’s nightstand. There was the kitchen, just as small and slightly jumbled as before. There was the bright red of the communist flag. But there was more than he hadn’t seen, and Dan lead him back to his bedroom. Cramped, cosy, with big pillows on the wall and bits and bobs scattered around the small space. A cup and a dish on the nightstand, a book on the floor, crumpled bits of paper everywhere. 

Phil was dead tired, and he could tell Dan was too. They barely said anything, just small words and tired smiles, but as Phil fell asleep in Dan’s arms he had a distinct feeling that this was exactly where he was meant to be. 

8.

The van was full of nervous excitement, you could feel it. They had all driven to London before, packed together like this on their way to Pits and Perverts. Hefina drove them across the field, fast and a bit erratic. Phil saw a banner out of the window, a big one advertising Gay Pride 1985. Phil didn’t think anyone in their group was quite as nervous as he was. 

When they finally spotted LGSM and brought the van to an abrupt halt, there was an immediate rush to get up and out the van doors. They all greeted each other, back together again. 

Phil didn’t see Dan right away, and then suddenly the other man was launching himself into Phil’s arms.   
He had missed him so much. 

They had seen each other a few times in the past 6 months. Phil came to London twice and Dan to their village three times. They talked every night. Three months ago, Dan had told him that he loved him. Phil had told Dan that he was moving to London. 

See, the strike had ended. The miners had lost. It had been almost a year since LGSM showed up on their doorstep, a year since their lives had changed so much.   
It was time for Phil to move on. The Dulais Valley would always be his home. There was no question about that. But London was where Phil needed to be now, with Dan was where he needed to be. Gethin had promised that if Phil couldn’t find a job in London he could work at his bookshop. He had roots in both places now, it was time for Phil to go.   
Phil was staying in London after today. 

But first, he just wanted to savour today. 

It was a beautiful June day, not too hot in London. The perfect day for London Pride, 1985. 

There was a huge group spread out across the field, people here to march through the streets. And here, in the middle of it all was their small group, all together and smiling and hugging. A young man walked up to them, pulling Dan aside.

“There’s too many of you, you’ll have to go to the front,” the man said, clearly frustrated.

Dan raised his eyebrows, looking around their ultimately meagre group. 

“Too many, what do you mean too many?” Dan asked.

Then, Phil spotted them. Busses coming in one after another. He could see their flags in their windows, all the banners of mining villages. 

Phil put his hand on Dan’s shoulder, pointing over the field. 

“I think he means them,” Phil beamed. 

As they watched group after group of miners unload from the busses, Phil thought he had never seen Dan so radiant as he was then. They gathered at the front in a sea of people and mining banners. Dan stood next to Phil, the two exchanging a grin. Dan reached to his jacket, taking off a pin in a smooth motion and turning to Phil, kissing Phil softly on the lips as he pinned it to Phil’s cotton shirt. “that’s mister faggot to you”, it read. As a band started playing, the group began to move together as one. Phil took Dan’s hand in his own, their fingers intertwining as they together headed out into the sunshine-filled streets.

**Author's Note:**

> Pah! Here it is! Thanks so much to my to my beta Niamh (radioactiveniamh on tumblr) who I could not have done this without and who gave me a million ideas for this fic being totally helpful and brilliant the whole way through. As well, an enormous shout-out to my incredible artist Chiara (nichigin on tumblr) they did an incredible job making this masterpiece http://doodlesfromthepit.tumblr.com/post/166808723726/victory-victory-to-the-miners-heres-my-entry. Thank you to anyone reading this! Hope you enjoy!


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